


Chemical

by sunshinekat



Category: Wooden Overcoats (Podcast)
Genre: Blowjobs, Dubious Consent, M/M, madeline is going to have to start writing smut on the side, rudyard's low selfesteem, the sun shines out of eric chapman's ass, they use the church bathroom for the wifi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28495563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinekat/pseuds/sunshinekat
Summary: It starts with a double-booked funeral. It ends with Rudyard sprawled in the church bathroom, thoroughly debauched.Eric/rudyard
Relationships: Eric Chapman/Rudyard Funn
Kudos: 9





	Chemical

A/n couldn't help it, these two are unreal. like...how have they not just fucked and got it over with? 

It was a lovely morning for a funeral. Nigel Wavering had found that arranging for funerals often kept the mostly empty pews fuller for the upcoming mass. 

The casket had been carried up the aisle to rest below the podium, the flower arrangements around Mr. Carlyle in red and yellows spelled out “Resting!” It was very nice indeed. Mr. Carlyle’s widow was sobbing uncontrollably in the front pew, surrounded by their shared friends and loved ones while the organ played a solemn tune. 

It was a Chapman funeral and Nigel had the hope that soon, those tears would dry up and they’d be singing karaoke soon. 

As if summoned by the thought Eric Chapman came out wearing a tasteful blue suit, it was not the black of a funeral director but still a somber shade. 

His blond hair curled gently, reflecting the light like a halo around his head, and eyes like the summer sky. If it weren’t for Desmond and the deep love he had for him he might join the village and put his hat in the ring for Eric Chapman. 

“Hey Nigel, waiting on the last of the family?” he asks, his voice as always so elegant and pleasing to the ear. 

“Yes Eric,” he smiles, “I must say I haven’t had this many visitors lately, I do hope they’ll be staying after to join mass.” 

Eric opened his mouth to speak, but something caught his eye. Nigel turned and saw a procession coming up the driveway led by none other than Rudyard Funn. He kept that slow pace with the procession following, a small closer of people dressed in black were holding each other as they walked, a new wave of sadness on it’s way to echo through the church walls. 

Eric straightened his suit jacket, “He must be at the wrong location.” 

Nigel nods, “Ah, of course, yes, that must be it.” 

Nigel watched Eric Chapman walk down to meet the procession, the blue in his suit shimmering under the morning sun, contrasting sharply with the coal black suit he always wore, the unfortunate scuffs on his black shoes. Surely he hadn’t…booked both funerals at the same time. 

Madeline sat deep in Rudyard’s pocket reading over yesterday’s notes, yes, plenty enough to make a full chapter! Rudyard’s haircut! Georgie and the radio host oh and who could forget Antigone finally giving in getting a cell-phone! All of it was quite perfect, it would be a flashy, humorous chapter which would leave her readers laughing and make constant “awe” sounds! 

“Who’s that-” Rudyard whispers, “Ugh. it’s Chapman!” as though he’d just seen something unpleasant his face took on a constipated look. Sensing something juicy was about to happen Madeline poked her little head from his breast pocket just in time to see Eric Chapman, looking quite fine in his blue suit walk up to Rudyard, his face breaking out into a smile. “Rudyard! How nice to see you, is that a new haircut? What are you doing here so early in the morning?” he looks over Rudyard’s shoulder presumably at the mourning family, “Oh, is that Miss Franks? Hello Miss Franks!” 

“Hello Mr Chapman!” comes the scratchy voiced response. 

Rudyard, “I’m directing a funeral Chapman, it’s what I do.” Rudyard’s voice is tight, tense and angry, as always he was ready to blow his top if Eric said anything out of turn. 

“You don’t happen to be going up to the church do you?” Eric asks, and he smiles again, mouth full of straight white teeth, handsome dimpled cheeks on display. 

“Nigel booked us for Sunday morning.” Rudyard bites out, “This Sunday morning.” 

“Well I’m already having a funeral, but here I’ll do you a favor.” 

Madeline grips the stiff overly starched cloth of Rudyard’s suit as he turns and follows Eric as he walks over to the mourning family. 

“Miss Franks, I’m so sorry but it looks like both your dear Edward and Mr. Carlyle’s widow Janice were booked to have their funeral ceremonies at the same time this morning.” He holds both of her gloved hands in his sure grip, “What-Chapman what are you doing?!” Rudyard stammers furiously. 

Miss Franks shakes with sobs behind her veil, “Oooohhhh, what shall I do?!” before she collapses Eric keeps her steady, “Let me take over from here Miss Franks, I will get it all settled, we shall have your procession take a break by the gazebo, you know the one, there is a place for you to sit and rest, I will have them provide you and your family a hot breakfast free of charge from Chapman’s bakery and

“You will do no such thing Chapman!” Rudyard snarls, and he opens his mouth to shout some more but it’s Miss Franks who starts to cry inconsolably. 

Nobody else was close enough to hear it, but Eric Chapman reassured her and then he turned to Rudyard and got into his space, which was strangely out of character. “Give me the itinerary, Funn.” He says it's different from his usual kind and sunshine personality, and his blue eyes were so intense, Madeline found herself jotting it down. 

Rudyard’s shaking hand brings up the itinerary, “There was going to be a-” 

Eric snatches it from his fingers, “Not anymore, now go home to your sister, I’m sure she tried to stop you from doing this.” 

Rudyard was all fire and bluster, but Madeline knew he couldn’t handle confrontation, he would wilt like a flower underneath it’s demanding gaze, and such a gaze was coming from Eric Chapman. 

She swayed along with Rudyard’s open coat, saw a glimpse of Eric taking the woman’s hands in his own and comforting her. 

As his jacket settled, Madeline noticed that they were not walking back home, he’d taken a sharp left and was now headed toward the restrooms on the other side of the church. She squeaked up at him and saw that tell tale flush on his cheeks. 

He’d had it as a child, every bully in town made fun of him for it, after losing his place in the Pifling Scouts, he’d stopped going outside, choosing instead to sit and read by the fire. The pallor he held now was the same from childhood, and the sun didn’t tan him anymore, if left alone long enough it would just burn. 

He was sensitive to their insults, and his temper always got the better of him pushing blood into his cheeks making him look quite silly she imagined. He walked into the well lit bathroom and shut the door behind him, he stalked back and forth and she watched him from the mirror, not quite sure if she could make anything of it. He was clearly angry about Chapman, but there were plenty of more interesting entries of him being upset about Chapman. 

Rudyard was more interesting when he was angry around other people. But he wasn’t stomping down to Antigone’s Mortuary to tell her what Eric did, and with it being so unusually aggressive one would think he would be ready to expose it to the entire village. 

Eric Chapman was a bully. 

Yet here he was, In a mock fighting pose punching the air. Madeline sighed and sank back into his pocket, this was not going into the book at all. 

How dare he?! Rudyard thought, he shot another punch to the air in front of him, if Eric Chapman did that to him again he’d be ready, getting in his face? Well he’d get a black eye is what! 

Rudyard Funn was not going to let some lout like Eric Chapman get the better of him, why if he came in here right now he’d make him regret treating him like that. 

Nigel double-booked them, he knew it, Antigone and Georgie knew it, they’d told him as such. Surely if they’d been on his side about it, that Nigel would push aside Chapman’s funeral to make way for the superior funeral, not that Mr. Carlysle's funeral was inferior in any way, he was a wonderful man and his loss was shocking to everyone who knew them...

However! 

Not that it mattered, damn that Chapman! he stole the funeral altogether, and Miss Franks who had been so distraught was bought with free coffee and breakfast. It was absurd, nobody was on his side anymore! 

He caught his own reflection in the bathroom mirror and quickly looked away, he hated looking at it. Deep inside he knew why, Eric Chapman was better looking, taller even and perfect in every way. Georgie had cut his split ends and still he knew he looked sallow even as his clean hair framed his face, his eyes a murky swampy green color, and skin that flushed too easily. He wasn’t a bony person, had the body of someone who could lift corpses without help, build coffins and such, the entire Funn household could probably win in a bar fight. 

Well, not Rudyard. He always conceded if it came to blows, terrified of pain. 

That truth swelled in his chest, filled him with fury and he punched the air again. 

That’s when the door opened. He turned and saw Eric Chapman standing in the entryway in that ridiculous blue suit. He looked surprised to see him there, and then he slammed the door shut and locked it. 

“Chapman get out!” he spat, raising his fists. 

He expected Chapman to flash a smile at him, to try and talk like he always did. But he walked toward him purposeful, too close and then he grabbed him by his hair and dragged him into one of the stalls. 

“Ow! Chapman what the bloody hell are you doing?!” the sound of the toilet seat slamming down, and Rudyard Funn finds himself sitting on the closed toilet staring up at Eric Chapman, he clenches his fists, “Whatever it is y-you’re doing I won’t- I won’t let you-” 

Eric is on his knees, his hands parting Rudyard’s legs, his voice loses all its strength right then, becoming high pitched, panicked almost, he grasps at Eric’s shoulders, “Chapman! Chapman what are you trying- please- I don’t-” 

He can’t speak, Eric Chapman’s hands unbuckle his belt, and unbutton his pants, fingers slide through the slit in his boxers to pull him out. It’s the adrenaline from the fighting, it’s not from anything else, blood gathers there for no reason sometimes- he finds himself saying it, as Eric Chapman’s fingers slide along the flesh of his cock, nobody’s ever touched it, nobody and he can’t help but say it, he keeps talking, fingers clenched in Chapman’s jacket. 

“Chapman stop- this isn’t…what- ah, what are you doing?” 

He covers his cock with his mouth, his tongue is hot and he holds him there in his mouth working him with his tongue and his throat, breathing eagerly through his nose. Blue eyes stare up at him, and he swears he’s smirking at him. Rudyard’s mouth is open and it’s all he can do to breathe over the decadent sounds coming out of his mouth. He pushes against Eric Chapman’s shoulders, Eric doesn’t even budge, but Rudyard can’t focus on pushing him away, not when his mouth is…it’s so hot, and wet and his tongue lashing against his sensitive flesh, he feels like he’s melting. He wants more, he grabs onto Eric Chapman’s curls and tugs, Chapman makes a sound, a low growl. Rudyard tangles his fingers in that bright blond hair threading his fingers through it, it’s soft and warm from the sun outside, scalp slightly damp from the heat. Outdoor funerals were never comfortable. 

Rudyard raises his hand to his mouth, his body racked with shivers, mind fuzzy, he was lost in sensation, he let it happen, let Chapman suck his cock until he was shaking and when climax came, it came like it had been described in the novels, a crashing wave, and he released it into Eric Chapman’s throat, Eric’s blue eyes watching him the entire time, watching him come apart and whisper his name breathlessly as he swallowed down his release. 

Eric Chapman stood up, brushed off his pants, straightened his jacket and stared down at Rudyard, “I like you better this way, Funn.” He says, voice slightly scratchy, he clears his throat and licks his lips, “If you’re good maybe we’ll do this again sometime.”

Then he left,and Rudyard pulled himself together, damp fingers buckling his belt, standing on shaky legs, and when he caught his reflection in the mirror that night he swore he was looking at a stranger. 


End file.
